Here at KHG HQ we wish whatever you celebrate may it be a happy one. Now, enough with that sentimental bs and on to the good stuff.
I am sure dear readers, that you have all been sitting on pins and needles waiting to find out about HIM. Yes, the Pugilist. He really does look like a cross between a boxer and a street thug. Picture someone Tony Soprano would hire as a hit man and you've pretty much got him. Combine that with a super thick Italian accent and it pretty much completes the picture. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I don't like good looking men, and trust me, he isn't. What he lacks in looks he makes up in personality. My Pugilist has got quite a personality, let me tell ya.
So here's our first date. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT ADVISE DOING THIS UNLESS YOU HAVE TAKEN ALL LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE NO JUDGEMENT. Ok, enough lecturing. But wait-if you do know my mother DO NOT EVER TELL HER I DID THIS.
So, remember KHG is on a dating site. I literally joined on Sunday, Dec. 16th, and started getting quite a few messages. A lot of the guys were really nice, but I never felt anything. And there was creepy breakfast guy, too... I had put that one of my all time favorite movies was "Lost in Translation" with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johannsen. I have never known a straight man in my life that liked that movie.
I get a message back from a guy who tells me he loves the movie. So in the late evening of Dec. 19th/20th we were IMing (which KHG hates btw) the Pugilist suggests we talk on the phone. I'm a bit wary (see post #3 in regards to why I don't like giving out my phone number). He asks for my number twice, and finally I give him both-cell and landline-and tell him to call me in 5 minutes. He does. When I pick up, on the other end of the line there is this deep voice with an Italian accent that made my knees melt. Holy Mother Mary. He had me at hello, or "Ciao Bella". So we talk and talk and talk and talk... Until it is 115AM and he's talking about food. I interrupt him and tell him that he's making me hungry. Out of the blue, he says "Bella, what you doing now? Let's go drink wine!". Uh, wtf? He comes my prudish response "But it's 1:15AM, the bars are closing." His response? "Bar! Mah! We don't need bar! I have an excellent collection of wine." My impulsive, psychotic brain goes into overdrive and I think where we could go. I then blurt out "You CANNOT come to MY HOUSE!". I am greeted by dead silence on the other end of the line. Then this "Bella, I would NEVER ask a lady to come to her home in the middle of the night." Ok. Phew on that one.
So we go back and forth as to where to go. We decide the only logical place is the beach. He asks how long I need to get ready and I say 30 minutes-'cuz I'm a chick. I leap out of bed (well, as much as I can leap) and do a quick clean clothes inventory. It isn't pretty, lemme tell ya. I run into the next room, pull on some legggings. Over that, a pair of boyfriend jeans, then two long sleeve long underwear shirts, thick socks, high boots (hey, I'm no fool-what man doesn't like a pair of high boots. Haven't met one yet.) grabbed a big winter coat and my purse. As I'm walking out my door, I notice out of the corner of my eye my Leatherman. What is that you might ask? It's like a Swiss Army Knife, and is encased in a leather case, ergo the name. When you first open it, it turns into some type of pliers. To get the actual knives out you'd be there all day (or night in my case) but again, in my addled brain I think that the Leatherman can protect me if he decides to rape or kill me or both! So I grab that and throw it in my purse. I fly out the door, jump in my car and crank No Doubt-well what did you think people? That I'd put Sinatra on? I needed to hear my Gwen.
So I'm flyin' down the road by the beach headed towards the restaurant parking lot and I see a car parked there. Now don't go asking KHG what KIND of car, because she can't tell one from the other. Trust me. I pull up next to it, and out gets this guy. I've described him before, but let us now visit him in more depth, shall we? He looks like he's around 5'11", 190lbs. He's wearing jeans, and it looks like a few shirts underneath with a zip up hoodie over that. He's also balding. But it is his face dear readers that just amazes me. Can I get a show of hands out there as to who watched the Sopranos? Mmmm...Ok...Looks like a lot of you did. How about watched the Godfather movies? Anyone? Ahhhh...Good. Very good. Ok. So picture Vito Corleone and Tony Soprano looking for a hit man. Can you picture what the hitman would look like? A slightly weathered face-more worldy than weathered, somewhat big nose, barrel chested. Now picture your average street thug and cross it with Tony's and Vito's hitman, and finally throw in a tiny pinch of boxer and you've got him-The Pugilist.
I will have to leave you hanging again my dear readers, since I have to go and make some type of money to pay my rent.
Until then, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Trust me-that gives you a hell of a lot of leeway. -KHG
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